Green with Envy
by The fan of supernatural
Summary: "Sam didn't realise how much disliked the guy until he was forced to watch him and Dean chatting and getting on just like old times. " The boys get a call asking for help from an old hunter from their childhood, which doesn't turn out too well with a sick sam. Jealous/hurt Sam and Protective/big brother Dean
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! Im back! For any of you that recognise this story, basically I wanted to redo this story as I only got to chapter two and when I read it back I wasn't the happiest about it.**

 **So I've updated and changed this chapter and will be rewriting the second chapter hopefuly in the next couple of days if this chapter is successful!**

…

Dean is curled up, fast asleep in a King sized bed when his phone rings. There had been no other rooms with two singles, and besides, Dean had had the ingenious idea of 'the last one to the bed sleeps on the floor.' Dean hadn't even given Sam a chance before he was diving onto the bed, shouting a victory and snickering at Sam's shake of the head.

Just like a kid, Sam thought. Sam had wanted to do a rematch, but that idea seemed even more childish. Besides, maybe sleeping on the floor wasn't such a bad thing. Sure, Dean and Sam had slept in the same bed multiple times, but not since they were kids.

Sam couldn't say he missed Deans snores and sometimes painful kicks and jabs (which Sam always accused him of doing on purpose). To be fair, Sam probably wasn't much better with the constant nightmares and moaning in his sleep that Dean sometimes whined about.

Sam had complied anyway, and tried sleeping on the floor with blankets and pillows, but had eventually given up and clambered into the bed when his neck started to hurt.

The phone continued to ring, Dean ignoring it or just in such a deep sleep that he didn't hear, which wasn't likely. Dean was always a light sleeper, waking at the slightest movement from Sam or sound.

"Dude, your phone." Sam says, raising his voice to try and get his brother to wake up.

Sam has been up since 8, the nightmares of coming visions invading his sleep.

He knows that Dean notices, because how could he not? Dean knows Sam more than anyone, enough to know that the occasional flinches aren't just nothing and the gasp Sam makes sometimes in his sleep isn't just usual nightmares that NORMAL people have. They're not the going to school in your pants sort of thing, they're hell and monsters and watching your brother die in your arms. Deans also smart enough not to mention anything he notices, because Sam will just flush red and mumble that it's nothing and that he's FINE Dean stop worrying like a mother hen. As if.

"You get it." Dean mumbles.

Sam feels a strange sense of relief wash over him when he hears Deans voice. Not in a sappy way, but he misses Dean. Much as he gripes at Dean for talking too much, he always misses his voice when he's not around. Missed it when they were kids and Dad and Dean left him alone for endless hunts. Missed it for the two days he ran away when he was ten. Missed it when he went to Stanford, and the only sound of Dean he got was when he rang late at night and he left a voicemail, which Sam had saved and had listened to almost every week just to comfort him. Most of all, he missed it when Dean went to hell.

Sam wills himself not to think about that. He had just got Dean back and he felt that the two were just starting to be BROTHERS again. Not that they weren't when he first came back... But it was different.

Sam sighs and grabs Deans phone from his duffle, the unrecognisable number flashing on the screen making him frown. Who calls them anyway? Bobby and who else?

"Hello?"

There's silence on the other end and this makes Dean open his eyes and sit up blearily.

"Look who it is, Sammy boy. Never could leave your brother alone even when we were kids." Sam frowns in confusion and glances at Dean.

"Uh.. Who is this?" Sam huffs a laugh.

The voice on the other end let's out a laugh, and Sam would say that it sounded menacing, almost intimidating. He knows this voice and he can tell Dean knows who it is to.

"Here, gimme it." Dean says, taking in the confusion that's visible in his brothers eyes.

"Lewis. Always a pleasure."

Lewis. The hunt that dad had taken them on when they were kids, Sam too young to actually do anything so sat in the backseat of the impala, his head buried in a different book every day. Lewis and Dean hadn't hit it off like John and Lewis's dad, Ben had hoped. They should have, they both liked the same bands, shared the same love of hunting and teenage girls and were the same age. Both Lewis and Dean bore the same arrogance and confidence that Sam loved about his brother but hated about Lewis.

Sam had just been the tag along, the scrawny fourteen year old who moaned about sparring and training and avoided going on hunts at any cost.

To be honest, Sam remembers that in the beginning Lewis and Dean had been friends, talking about waitresses and monsters and bands. But Lewis was a dick, he had shortly realised. Not only did his happiness come from hunting, it came from making fun of Sam and enjoyed making him feel uncomfortable when his brother wasn't around.

The click of Dean hanging up pulls Sam out of his thoughts.

"What does he want?" Sam says bitterly, not even trying to keep it out of his voice.

"Wants us for help on a hunt. Can't hunt it by himself and apparently called every hunter on his contacts." Dean gets out of bed, beginning to pack his clothes and whatever else they needed.

Sam feels a headache coming on, thumping in his head like a drum, over and over.

"Why? Can't he do it himself?"

"Apparently it's something big, hasn't been able to figure out just what it wants and when it strikes."

Dean chucks a bag at Sam.

"Look, we don't have to Sam. I know how much he freaked you out back when we were kids." Dean says softly, and Sam smiles, because this is a rare moment that Dean let's his guard down and ALMOST allows a chick flick.

"S'alright. He's just an asshole and the sooner we get this done the better."

"Can't disagree with you there. Now move your ass, his car broke down so we're gonna have to pick him up and do some research."

"Course we do." Sam says, rolling his eyes.

To be completely honest, Sam looks like crap. His fringe is sticking to him, beads of sweat running down his forehead, yet still manages to be shaking like a leaf in the seat beside Dean.

He was curled in on himself, head pressed up against the window as if the pressure would ease the headache that Sam never mentioned but Dean knew he had. Call it big brother radar. Dean had noticed all the sick Sammy signs earlier on in the morning, when Sam had first got in the impala, turning on the heater until Dean was sweating like a pig.

So not a good day to be ill, Sam thought. Thinking back, he did disregard his thumping headache as a vision that he had had the previous day but now was probably just the result of a fever.

"How far away are we?"

"Bout twenty minutes." Sam sighs, turning up the heater another notch.

"Dude, it's friggin boiling in here."

"I'm freezing." Sam shivers.

Dean knows all the signs of a sick Sammy, but he should have realised this morning, before they got in the car on the way to see damn Lewis.

"We can stop off if you feel ready to hurl."

Dean says, grimacing at the thought of Sam throwing up on the car seats. Not that it hasn't happened before. Multiple times. Damn Winchester pride and stubbornness.

"I'm fine. It's getting better." If Sam was getting any better, he wasn't looking like it.

"If you wanna go back to a motel somewhere it's alright you know. I kinda owe Lewis one though, so gotta see this through."

Sam doesn't move his head from where it's resting, muttering something that Dean couldn't hear.

"What's that princess?" Dean says, a last attempt at prying a smile from Sam.

Instead Sam gives him one of his bitch faces, maybe number three or four on Deans list of Sammy bitch faces. He was bored, ok? Dad had left him looking after Sam with nothing but salt lines to do and guns to clean, so why not make a list of all Sam's faces?

"I said, why do ya owe him?"

"He kinda saved my life back in Indiana one time. You were at Stanford. Long story short, black dog jumped me and turns out he had been working the same case and happened to be hunting the same thing."

"You had to be saved by Lewis?" Sam smirks and begins to laugh but stops when he's reminded of the pain in his head.

"Don't remind me, bitch." Dean sighs.

There's silence in the car for about ten seconds, before Sam muttered out a quiet;

"Jerk."

Sam stays in the front seat when Dean goes out to greet Lewis. Sam thinks he hasn't changed, with his bushy eyebrows in a permanent frown and dirty blonde hair. Dean and him seem in deep conversation before he makes his way to the car door as Dean seats himself back in his seat.

"Hey Sammy boy." Lewis says with a grin. Sam smiles wanly, almost reaching bitch face number 6 on Deans list.

"Come on then, you gonna get in the back?"

Sam looks at Dean.

Sam didn't want to move. He liked being in the front with his brother. It's always been that way, even since they were kids. Dad would take the truck and Sam would slide in the passenger seat next to Dean.

It wasn't a big deal though, Sam had been in the back multiple times when Dean was with Bobby, or John or their other friends.

But this was different, this was LEWIS. Rolling his eyes at Dean, Sam clambered into the back, not missing the smug smile that Lewis shot him. Sam didn't realise how much he disliked the guy until he was being forced to sit in the back while Dean and him chatted like old times.

"So what you thinking, spirit, ghost?" Dean asks, as Lewis takes several documents and newspapers out.

"Most likely. Reports of lights flickering, doors slamming and locking people in, objects flying off tables."

"Poltergeist?" Sam offers.

"No. I checked." Lewis says stoutly.

Sam tried not to take notice of the feeling of being brushed off, being ignored. Just like it had been like when they were kids and Dean and Lewis had been talking about stuff he didn't know about. It was stupid, it was childish, but Sam slowly began to feel JEALOUS of Dean and Lewis's friendship, even though Dean had said that he didn't like the guy.

While Lewis is still looking through newspapers, Dean turns around and gives Sam a glance. A glance that says, 'are you okay?', referring to his headache. Sam nods and then looks away, not wanting to look as if he was interested in the conversation Dean and Lewis were now having.

"Look, why don't we go to a bar. Women, beer, pool." Lewis says jokingly, to which Dean agrees heartily, saying something about it being good to get off work for a bit.

Sam sniffed, partly because he had a cold but also feeling the need to act insolent and sulky.

"You coming Sammy?" Lewis smiles at him again, and God Sam wants to punch him.

"My name isn't Sammy." Sam says. Dean looks at him, surprise and pride in one glance, and Sam pushes down the urge to grin back.

Dean notices that Sam is still sweating, could tell his head still hurt (although the pills Dean had given him had helped) and that he was still cold even though the car was freaking boiling.

"Sam, why don't you go back to the motel and get in bed, yeah?" Dean says, chucking him the keys.

"To bed?" Lewis says, smirking.

"He's got the flu."

"So he's going to go to bed? Come on relax a bit Sammy."

….

 **I got this idea from another writer on here, and I think its great, so please comment what you thought of this start and pick which option you would prefer the next chapter to be about. :)**

 **(will be rewriting the second chapter hopefuly in the next couple of days if this chapter is successful!)**

 **OPTION A**

 **Sam goes back to the motel room, leaving Dean and Lewis to chat at a bar. The next day, Sam feels even more ill and Dean insists that he can't do the hunt in his condition. Lewis gets angry, saying people will die if they don't do this That night.**

 **OPTION B**

 **Sam goes to the bar with them, and helping them research, finds out key information which tells him that Sam would be the main target to the spirit. Lewis insists that Sam should be bait, but Dean really isn't happy about that idea.**

 **Thank you everyone for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

Hey everyone. The majority of the votes were option B, so here goes!

…..

"I'll come," Sam said, glaring at Lewis.

Dean didn't seem to notice, though. He was too intent on the bar ahead.

Dean and Lewis would be fine. If Sam hadn't gone, they would have had a great time. It wasn't like Sam even wanted to go. His head hurt, he looked like crap and he really wasn't in the mood to hear Dean and Lewis hit it off again like old best friends. And Dean said he didn't like the guy... What was that about?

But Sam wanted to prove himself, though he didn't really know why to be honest.

He could have been relaxing back at the motel with no older brother and bagsy of the comfiest bed... But the thought of Dean and Lewis at a bar playing pool and drinking beer together made Sam's skin crawl.

"I'll bring my research and you can go over it for me," Lewis said, giving Sam a smug smile.

Ten years down the line and Sam was still the tag along to Lewis and Dean, the kid that followed his older brother around even now. Not that Sam cared, he wouldn't have it any other way. But things had changed. Sam was older, stronger, a lot taller. Less jealous than he was when they first met Lewis? Not a chance.

"Alright. I'll probably find something you've missed anyway," Sam retorted back

"Good luck with that, Sammy. Dean and I'll have a game of pool. Just like old times, eh?" He punched Dean's arm playfully.

Dean snorted, nodding along like he actually remembered what they used to do when Lewis was around. They never went to play pool. Sam remembered, clear as day.

….

The bar smells of smoke and sweat, and Sam wheezed beside Lewis, who clapped him on the back. As if that helped at all.

Sam slid himself into a seat near the pool table, and Lewis set down all his research in front of him.

"There. Have fun, Sammy." Lewis smiles, signaling Dean for a couple of beers, even though he probably didn't notice as he was engrossed in the brunette behind the bar.

Sam wiped the sweat from his forehead. Damn, when did it get so hot? Lewis and Dean seemed to be fine, even with Dean in his leather jacket.

Sam began to feel slightly dizzy, the words from the old newspaper jumping around and dancing around his eyes as if teasing him. Putting his head in his hands, he refused to watch as Dean and Lewis played pool together, hearing the occasional uproar of their laughter.

Almost twenty minutes had passed, and Sam was bored. Bored as hell. He'd given up on the research, figuring that he would have more hope searching on the Internet, if he had his laptop.

Sam began to go through the alphabet, a little game he and Dean had used to play when they were kids and bored in the car.

A is for apple. And anger.

B is for brother. Stupid ass brothers who left little brothers doing research.

C is for car.

D is for... Dad. Sam felt his stomach clench painfully and willed himself to not think about Dad.

Sam made it all the way down to L.

L is for love. The word that Dean says about bands and burgers, and that waitress from four towns back. It's also the word Sam never says to his brother because he knows, I'm sure.

…

"Hey, you found anything yet?" Dean asked, he and Lewis both grinning at each other from their pool win.

Dean flashes him the cash he won and gave him a wink. Sam ignored it.

"Yeah, actually. Uh, the newspapers didn't give a lot of information but I think I'm onto something."

"Look, the lines I circled were the important parts," Lewis snorted. Sam felt his anger rising, but pushed it down quickly with a sigh.

"Yeah I know, but it didn't make that much sense. Basically, the most recent victim, Thomas, was ill the days before he was found, his friends said in the interview."

"Yeah, and? You think there's a pattern?" Dean asked, scanning the newspapers and trying to read Sam's scrawled handwriting.

"I think so, because the victim before that, uh, Craig Hardy, was being bullied, according to his mates and the victim before that just a week before, had been in a car accident and broken his leg." Sam pointed to his annotations on the interview.

"Doesn't really seem like a pattern though does it? Someone ill, bullied and injured, they are all completely different scenarios." Lewis frowned.

"Yeah, I know that, but I think the spirit goes after people who are vulnerable, for whatever reason."

"And its only gone after males? There are no particular ages either." Dean points out.

"I think it might be what the spirit is tied too, as in a past experience which is what is making it kill the victims." Dean nodded and clapped Sam on the back.

"Ok, thats good. So what now?" Lewis asks.

"I think I'm gonna head to the library and see if I can figure out who the spirit was and what happened, where its buried and so on."

Dean glanced at him, noting his pale complexion and the sweat under his bangs.

"Why don't we do it tomorrow?" Dean suggested, pushing Sam's hardly drunken beer towards him.

"Nah, I won't be long. You guys can stay here and I'll meet you back in the motel."

Sam can see that Dean briefly considered coming with him, but he knows his brother too well, and history has proven that if Dean has a choice between watching Sam geek out in the library, or chatting up woman at a bar, the latter always won.

"Alright, but Sam, call me if you need anything. We won't be long," Dean smiled warmly at Lewis. Since when are Dean and Lewis friends? Sam thinks to himself, and feels a flash of jealousy before he turned away without a word.

….

Sams head is deep in research when he gets a text from Dean, which makes him jump slightly and causes the librarian at the front desk to glance at him disapprovingly. Not like anyone else is in here, Sam thinks.

 **"** **Hey Sam, dont get too into your research geek boy. Do you want me to come pick you up or walk?"**

Sam smiled to himself, and then thought of Lewis sitting next to Dean at the bar, laughing and joking, and decided Dean's text didn't particularly deserve a smile from him. Since when is Dean pally with Lewis? Sam asks himself again.

It's not like he's jealous, just annoyed that Dean had said it would be a quick hunt and now its turned into Dean and Lewis hanging out and Sam stuck at the library.

 **"** **Can you come pick me up?"** Sam replied to Deans text. Normally he would have happily walked home on his own, but Sam could feel the pain in his head returning and although the library was freezing, he found himself with beads of sweat making their way down his forehead.

Sam waited for Dean's inevitable reply, which he delivered soon after.

 **"** **You ok?"**

 **"** **Yeah."** Sam winced at the sudden flash of pain in his head, and was grateful for the next reply:

"Ok, I'm heading over now."

….

"Heya Sammy," Dean said cheerily. The librarian glared.

"Found anything?" Lewis asked, taking a seat next to Sam.

"Yeah, actually. You remember that spirit in Dads journal we were reading about the other day? I think thats it, I think it's the one where in order to get rid of it, we'll need to lure it out somewhere and then burn its bones."

"Yeah I know what you're talking about. Couldn't it just be our usual?"

"Nah, you see how its latched onto vunerablility, like I said before? I looked through the accounts and police reports, and I found some info about how the victims were all close to that old house thats, like, a couple of minutes away. I think it might be connected but I'm not sure." Sam shoved some papers under Deans nose and wasn't surprised when he didn't even attempt to read his notes he had made.

"Ive just got to look Into some history and death reports from the old house, see if anyone died there which could indicate a spirit." Sam felt the familiar flash of pain and frowned.

"Okay, but lets get home now. We can do this tomorrow." Sam nodded his head at Dean, which made Dean's big brother radar go off like crazy, as it was unusual that Sam was so compliant.

As they made their way back to the car, Lewis looked in deep thought, so much so that Sam managed to slip into the front seat without Lewis protesting about leg room again, which seemed totally unfair as Sam is basically a Sasquatch, according to Dean. The silence didn't last long though, unfortunately for Sam's head and Dean's patience.

"So after we hunt this thing, we'll go out again, yeah Dean?" Lewis asked from the backseat, and Sam almost cringed at how desperate he sounded. He hoped Deans silence meant he agreed with him.

"Dean?"

Sam sighed, and as if on cue his headache started to come back in full force. Lewis huffed beside him. Sam felt himself going slightly dizzy, and a feeling of nausea rose in full force.

He grabbed the end of Dean's leather jacket giving it a tug, trying to Let Dean know that if Dean didn't stop the car right freaking now then he was going to have to be cleaning the impala for a long time after. Sam vaguely heard Dean's concerned voice, and the car pulling over and he swallowed audibly and closed his eyes.

Sam stumbled out of the car door, not really hearing Dean crouch beside him, before he threw up all over Lewis's shoes.

…..

Thanks for reading guys, will be updating in a couple of days if I get some good responses and choices of chapter:

So here goes:

Option A:

Dean insists Sam can't do the hunt while he is this sick, and Sam refuses to let Dean and Lewis go together as he doesn't trust Lewis. Lewis gets increasingly annoyed at Sam as he wants the chance to hunt with Dean and a fight between them starts to brew.

Option B:

Dean finally agrees to let Sam hunt with them, and the brothers and Lewis plan to somehow lure there spirit out and burn the bones, but things don't go to plan… Obviously.


End file.
